


An Alliance

by kellbelle



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Arranged Marriage, Elf/Human Relationship(s), Enthusiastic Consent, F/M, Fluff, Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition - Trespasser DLC, Romance, Smut, Solas changed his mind, this is filth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:28:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27636836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kellbelle/pseuds/kellbelle
Summary: After the Inquisition formally disbanded, the Dread Wolf reconquered part of the Dales for the elves. To prevent an Exalted March on New Arlathan, Solas offers an alliance of marriage between himself and the former Inquisitor.
Relationships: Female Inquisitor/Solas (Dragon Age), Fen'harel/Female Trevelyan (Dragon Age), Solas/Female Trevelyan (Dragon Age)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 80





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my magnum opus, my smutty AU dissertation if you will. 
> 
> I fully recognize that this is ridiculous, utterly long garbage. This Inquisitor is very much clueless. I don't know how marriage customs in Thedas work, but I tried my best and had fun so there you go. 
> 
> I do mention Evelyn’s pain after her amputation and do sincerely hope I have addressed that correctly. If not, please feel free to let me know and I can fix it!

If someone had told Evelyn a year ago that she would be offered a marriage alliance to the Dread Wolf, who just so happens to be her absent friend in disguise, she would have likely told that person to get off the drink. And yet here she is, staring at a formal letter written in a neat script while Josephine, Leliana, and Cullen cautiously await her reaction. 

_Dear Inquisitor Evelyn Trevelyan,_

_I would like to formally propose an alliance between New Arlathan and the former Inquisition. While your organization’s actions against my nation have indeed been covert, I nevertheless wish to end the hostilities between us. We were allies, once, and I am certain that we are both capable of working together again._

_New Arlathan refuses to relinquish the territory that rightfully belongs to the People. We deserve our freedom and I know you believe in our cause, Inquisitor. Yet, if you accept this alliance I hereby swear to cease further encroachment upon the borders of Orlais. My People have contented themselves and will live peacefully among the Arbor Wilds for generations to come._

_I, your friend Solas, Fen’Harel, hereby extend an alliance of marriage between myself and you, former Inquisitor, Evelyn Trevelyan. While our union may be unconventional, my People are eager to welcome the vanquisher of Corypheus and Herald of Andraste among our ranks. A union between us would solidify the goodwill of our people for generations to come. Your organization will accomplish its purpose in ending the war and my People will have the support of a woman they admire dearly._

_Please consider my offer, Inquisitor. I await your response at your earliest convenience._

_Yours,_

_Solas_

“I… don’t understand,” the former Inquisitor speaks in unabashed astonishment. This _has_ to be a joke. 

“Solas - or Fen’Harel, I suppose I should say - wishes to end the hostilities in the reconquered Elvhen territories by offering an alliance between the former Inquisitor and himself. He believes a union such as this would solidify the elves’ claim to their land and mollify the humans who still revere you as their savior,” Josephine helpfully explains, despite her own evident surprise at such an offer. 

Evelyn feels her cheeks flaming red at just the mere idea of it. Solas had never given any indication that he would be amicable to any sort of intimate relationship with a human, nonetheless with her. Although they had been friends, she keenly remembers her humiliating attempts at flirting and his gentle rebuff once he’d caught on. He was most assuredly not interested in her like that. So why is she now looking at a marriage proposal? 

“I understand that, Josie, but why me? I didn’t think Solas even liked humans that way,” she tries awkwardly explaining. 

The new Divine Victoria and former spymaster chimes in next. “You do not have to be _interested_ in someone for a political match to work.” 

“Maker, are we really even considering this?” Cullen mutters, ever the voice of reason. 

“An alliance such as this would effectively cease the ongoing violence in the Dales and may prevent Fen’Harel’s army from marching upon other lands,” Josephine supplies. 

“Hundreds are already dead and thousands of elves have flocked to this new promised land. The region is in chaos and I don’t see any other means of ending this war,” Leliana explains, somewhat harshly. “Maker knows I have tried to appease the Chantry but an Exalted March seems evident.” 

Evelyn is well aware of this. Ever since the startling revelation that Solas himself had apparently enabled Corypheus with his orb and is actually an ancient, Elvhen god, the remaining squadron of former Inquisition members had quietly tried to root out his people after formally announcing their disbandment. Leliana had been working tirelessly, even as the new Divine, to “take care” of their former friend. Yet the Dread Wolf had thus far evaded their every step. War had inevitably broken out in the Dales as Briala allied with Fen’Harel and the elves began to fight back. Eventually, a sizeable portion of the Dales had been reconquered and elves from all around Thedas began to flock to their new promised land. Fen’Harel has since been ruling over the Dales, now referred to as New Arlathan. 

And yet Evelyn had perhaps rather foolishly decided to stay quiet about his plan to sunder the veil. She was more than happy to share the news that Solas had infiltrated the Inquisition as the ancient Elvhen god, Fen’Harel. It was easy enough to tell of his plans to stake a claim to the lands once belonging to his People. Her advisors had been stupefied and furious at the revelations and yet the Inquisitor could not bring herself to share the whole devastating world-ending bit near the end of her disastrous conversation with Solas in Halamshiral. Quietly, she had decided instead that she would find another way to help Solas achieve his goals without the needless death and destruction his method would entail. 

“But are we really willing to just hand over the _Herald of Andraste_ to an _Elvhen god_? Are we not putting her in danger?” Cullen supplies while Evelyn eagerly nods her agreement. Surely this was just an all-around bad idea. “For all we know it could be a trap.”

“And yet it could not be. We all remember the way he used to look at her. He had plenty of opportunities, even after defeating Corypheus, to try and cause harm to the Inquisitor and yet he has not once proven himself to be a direct threat. The offer could be genuine,” Leliana argues and Evelyn feels herself sinking further into her seat. It was rather out of character for Leliana to not consider the worst of outcomes. The former spymaster must be truly desperate to be considering this. 

“What do you mean ‘the way he looked at me?’” Evelyn can’t help but wonder aloud, interrupting the Divine’s somewhat flawed reasoning. 

Leliana’s gaze softens as she studies the former Inquisitor. “He looked at you like a man in love.” 

Cullen immediately scoffs at the suggestion while Josephine appears to seriously consider that possibility. Evelyn herself is too stunned to even speak for a moment. Leliana was never wrong. Yet throughout her entire acquaintance with the elf, she had been certain he did not care for her in that way. Their interactions were mostly professional, ranging from magical research to strategies of sabotaging Corypheus’s efforts. Occasionally they would share a hot drink and discuss his journeys in the Fade but there was never anything outright risqué they would speak of. They were friends, nothing more and nothing less. 

“Leliana, you know I trust you, but are you absolutely certain? He is _literally_ _ancient_ , could he not be a master of deception? Perhaps he wanted you to come to that conclusion to potentially solidify a future alliance. It could all just be a part of his plan!” 

The former spymaster merely shrugs. “Evelyn, you know I would not seriously consider this if I believed you to be in any real danger. I fear we may have little choice in preventing an Exalted March should Fen’Harel and Briala continue to march on Orlais.” 

The use of her given name somewhat calms her. “I still don’t understand why.” 

“Then let us find out,” Josephine suggests as she draws out a blank sheet of vellum and a quill. 

“Maker’s breath,” Cullen mutters in defeat. 

Perhaps, as foolish as it was, Evelyn could still convince him to change his mind. He had extended an offer of alliance. Surely her old friend would be amiable to listen to her if she would meet with him. 

* * *

Not two weeks later they are meeting in a humble lodge in the Emerald Graves, packed to the brim with heavily armored guards from opposing sides. Evelyn is seated across from Solas at a simple table, sitting rigid and trying desperately not to scratch at the imaginary itch where her left hand used to be. Josephine insisted that she not wear her usual armor and so she begrudgingly let the former Ambassador stuff her into a far more elaborate dark blue robe than she is used to. 

Solas is also dressed rather formally for the occasion. He still wears a pelt across his shoulder, but underneath he wears dark formal wear with silver threading and distinctly Elvhen embroidery. 

You could cut the tension with a knife. 

“Might we speak privately, Solas?” Evelyn finally breaks the tense silence. 

A grim-looking soldier standing behind Solas sneers, “You will address him as _Lord Fen’Harel_.”

The elf in question appears to narrow his eyes before gazing up to the soldier. “As I have already told you, Telan, the Inquisitor is an old friend. She may address me however she wishes.” 

_Asshole,_ she can’t help but think. Despite their former friendship, she couldn’t just forget his part in allowing Corypheus to wreak havoc on Thedas. Not only that, the mark on her hand had been his own magic, tearing her apart from the inside. There is not a night that goes by where she doesn’t lie awake trying to ignore the phantom pains. She couldn’t even begin to describe her fury at his plan to sunder the veil in one go, ignoring the destruction and needless death that would immediately follow. 

“Please leave us,” Solas adds, beckoning his people with a wave before Evelyn glances over to the former Commander. Cullen gives her an uneasy look but reluctantly he motions her guard, helpfully supplied by the Divine, to follow him outside. 

It is not until the door clicks shut behind the last soldier that she marginally relaxes. Anxiously, Evelyn tugs at the shortened sleeve of her gown where the phantom pains bother her. She can’t bear to look at the elf across from her. 

“Does it still trouble you?” He asks, and Maker he actually sounds sincere. Wordlessly Evelyn nods, staring determinedly out the window on the far side of the room. 

She startles at the feeling of his hand cupping her stump, flickering her eyes back to find him sending cooling, blue waves of mana into what is left of her arm. The itching and throbbing ceases for the time being. 

“Thank you,” she breathes out, wary at his closeness. 

“I can have a magical prosthesis made for you, if that is your desire,” he offers, staring into her eyes with bottomless pools of grey. What is she even supposed to say to that?

“If I were to marry you?” The word - _marry_ \- feels weird on her tongue. She still can’t believe this is even being discussed. Circle mages don’t marry. Circle mages certainly don’t marry gods. 

“It would be a gift for a friend,” he assures her before he sits back against his chair once more. “With or without the alliance.” 

“Solas?” Evelyn muses, uneasily. 

“Hm?” 

“What is your angle?” 

“I do not understand.” 

“Why propose marriage? _To me_?” She manages to squeak out. The distress must show on her face for her former friend’s stoic demeanor begins to crack. “You have to know I am not the kind of person to marry in such circumstances. I...I’m not even sure I’m allowed to marry as a mage, even with the Divine’s influence!” 

He doesn’t say anything for a moment. Instead he merely stares at her with conflict etched into his furrowed brows. 

“I… understand,” he begins and if Evelyn didn’t know any better she’d have thought he was downright nervous. “Yet I would not marry you under false pretenses. The union would benefit the both of our organizations, I assure you. The Divine has already lifted many of the restrictions put upon mages and Leliana has her... _methods_. There are, of course, no such restrictions in New Arlathan. You would not be unhappy by any means.”

“Are you suggesting a marriage in name only?” The question cannot be helped. Something dark flickers behind his grey eyes and Evelyn feels her pulse jump in alarm. 

“No,” he answers curtly. The air seems to still around them as she ponders the implication of just what _that_ entails. 

“Oh,” she says with an exhale. She truly hadn’t been expecting such an answer. The ancient elf seems to snap out of his sudden dour mood and leans forward on his elbows against the table separating them. 

“There will likely be expectations,” he further explains. “While I do not intend to rule for much longer, a… physical manifestation of our union would help solidify the goodwill between our people long after we are gone.” 

The air leaves her chest in a huff. Bloody ‘ _physical manifestation_ ,’ she thinks ruefully. During long weeks agonizing over this decision, not once has she even considered the possibility of children. Quite foolish not to, really. And whatever could he have meant by ‘long after we are gone’? Was he not immortal? 

“Sweet Andraste.” She really does try to stamp down her embarrassment but her rapidly heating cheeks must betray her flush. “Would our children not be, um, well... human?” 

“My blood is stronger than those of the modern elves. While our children would be human in some aspects, they will still appear as elves,” he answers her readily enough. How can he be so composed, speaking of this? “Is that a problem?”

The glare she offers him should be answer enough. What must he think of her? “No, Solas, of course it would not be a problem. I merely was wondering if your people would truly accept this marriage.” 

“You forget that some of the People I lead also carry the blood of humanity in their veins. Many humans have also joined our cause, so you - our family, would not be alone, Evelyn.” 

She takes a moment to ponder this. The thought of them, together, having a family - it was just preposterous. Her brain is practically screaming at her _don’t do this,_ but can she really walk away from the potential for peace? From the potential to talk him out of his foolish plan to tear down the veil? Her entire life had already been decided for her the moment she was branded a mage and sent to the Circle. After the disaster at the Conclave, the mark on her hand forcing her to lead armies to defeat an ancient magister, Evelyn had really thought that maybe by now she could do what she wanted with her life. Her business with the Inquisition was supposed to be over. Fen’Harel’s decision to invade Orlais, inspire an Elvhen revolution, and start another war had forced her to stay politically active should he decide to tear down the veil. Solas had, yet again, forced her hand. Quite literally. 

“Is this truly what you want, Solas?” The question leaves her lips before she can think to stop it. She has to know for certain. There could be no doubt should she agree to this union. 

His gaze softens upon her as he reaches for her right hand across from him. The gentle touch of his fingers on her sends a pang of long-denied yearning. Oh, she had missed him. 

“Yes,” he assures her, softly. He is being kind, she knows, nothing more. It is a political alliance to stop the bloodshed and end the former Inquisition’s quiet manhunt of the traitorous Dread Wolf. It is an alliance that may afford her precious opportunity to prevent Leliana from calling an Exalted March. 

He still looks like the friend she had leaned on, the friend who immortalized her image in his frescoes. 

Yet no matter the outcome of her decision, she would die. Her friends would die. The people she had worked tirelessly to save, to protect, would perish should the veil be destroyed. A white hot surge of anger pours through her at the thought, leaving her breathless as she promptly snatches her hand away and tucks it under her thigh. 

“There is another matter.” The words are spoken in a harsh whisper. She’s well aware Cullen and the rest of the soldiers were listening closely to their conversation. 

“If I agree to this, you will not needlessly destroy Thedas. We will research, _together_ , alternative methods to slowly bring down the veil. I cannot let you wreak havoc on what I worked so hard to save. I refuse to bring children into this world if all they will know is chaos. And should you disagree to this, should you ever lie to me again, I will have little choice but to spend the rest of my mortal life finding and ending you.” 

Her speech ends darkly, her nails leaving jagged crescents on her skin where she digs them in. She means it, wholeheartedly. She cannot let him follow through with his foolhardy plan no matter how she may feel about him.

Her heart is thundering wildly in her chest as she watches him. She takes a steadying breath as she reclines back in her seat, trying to will away her impassioned anger. 

Solas’s demeanor softens as he merely nods. “I agree to your terms, Inquisitor.” 

_What?_

Evelyn had not been expecting that. Surely, this has to be some fluke. After their meeting through the Eluvians, he had been so entrenched in his convictions. She had feared ever since that fateful encounter that she had already lost her friend, the man she had pined for from afar. 

“What, really?” She can’t help but lean forward, her hand laid out against the table as if to steady herself. She gazes at him with wide eyes, uncomprehending. 

The elf seems to take amusement at her incredulity. “Yes, truly. I would not have offered this alliance if I had still planned on rendering the veil all at once. I have pondered your words for months, Evelyn, and I now see the wisdom in them.” 

The words hit her like a blow. He wasn’t going to destroy the world. Relieved tears threaten to spill from her eyes as she loses control of the smile that tugs on her lips. For months she had agonized over their last encounter, fearing the worst, fearing that she herself had doomed Thedas by not disclosing Solas’s plan to her advisors. And now the burden has been lifted. 

“Okay,” Evelyn agrees, quietly, and she can’t quite believe she just said that. Apparently Solas had not been expecting her to say that either, for his eyes widen considerably in surprise. 

“You will agree to marry me?” He asks for clarification, his hand unintentionally squeezing hers. “Should you refuse, I shall still pursue other avenues of research into a slower sundering of the veil.” 

Nodding, she sucks in a quick breath and speaks once more, “Yes, but there could still be an Exalted March. I...I will marry you. I want _peace_.” 

The sound of her own heartbeat thunders in her ears. She doesn’t know if this is truly a good decision or not, but she knows Leliana and Josephine wouldn’t have sent her here if they thought this wasn’t worth it. And she… wants to. Even if it would be torture to enter a political match with the man who had rejected her. 

A smile graces the Dread Wolf’s lips as he moves from his seat to kneel before her. He quickly fishes in his pocket for something. Watching in astonishment, Evelyn can’t quite contain the small gasp of surprise when he slips a ring onto the finger of her remaining hand. The ring is thin and shining silver, with twisting vines blooming into a dazzling emerald. It is breathtaking and far finer than anything she is used to wearing as a former Circle mage. 

Solas raises her hand, now bearing his ring, to his lips in a chaste kiss. He helps her rise, stunned, from her seat and guides her to the door to alert the others. 

Cullen was likely going to kill her. 

* * *

There is an extremely mixed reception regarding her impending nuptials to the Dread Wolf. There is outcry, of course, mostly from Divine Victoria’s opposition in the Chantry. Yet many see the wisdom in ending the hostilities before thousands of more lives were lost. 

Comparisons to Andraste and Shartan run rampant throughout Skyhold, now a bustling trading post connecting Orlais and Fereldan between the Frostbacks. The people who pass through are quick to gather gossip now that the supposedly disbanded Inquisition would finally cease their covert operations to prevent the Dread Wolf and his army from overtaking the whole of Thedas.

Evelyn takes control of packing away her few meager belongings while helping move artifacts and other Inquisition relics to Leliana’s people in Val Royeaux. Cullen, Josephine, and the Divine finalize the treaties with Solas’s people in New Arlathan before the former ambassador prepares perhaps the most exclusive wedding of the age. 

There are two separate weddings planned by each institution, leaving Evelyn to slog through multiple seamstress visits and tomes surrounding proper Elvhen etiquette. 

The entire Inner Circle is invited, with her friends eager to witness such a spectacularly bizarre spectacle. No one is particularly happy with the marriage alliance, with the most vocal opponents being that of Sera and Dorian for completely different reasons. Sera disapproves because Solas is, well, Solas. Dorian disapproves because he fears for her general well-being and happiness while married to an ancient Elvhen god. 

The most surprising supporter of their union is Vivienne. While the First Enchanter still detests Solas, she is surprisingly approving of his new royal garb and the array of titles he now proudly carries. If nothing else, Vivienne can recognize an advantageous match when she sees one. Even the Enchanter would not wish more war upon Orlais and the rest of Thedas should relations sour. 

* * *

The first wedding takes place back in the Emerald Graves, where they had first agreed to their union, at the former Freemen of the Dales headquarters the Inquisition had liberated once upon a time. Solas and Evelyn would be married by none other than the Divine Victoria herself. While Evelyn is generally not a religious person, she understands the wedding under the new Divine herself would help strengthen the alliance between the Chantry and New Arlathan. Still, it feels almost wrong to bind herself to Solas, even politically, under another religious organization. 

A magical prosthesis arrived at Skyhold before they had to depart for the Emerald Graves. It appears to be made of ironbark, and feels stiff and unnatural for but a moment before something seems to snap in place. The ironbark bends to her will, mirroring her remaining arm and incredibly allowing her to move the prosthetic wrist and fingers. She now wears it underneath her wedding dress. 

According to the ladies attending her, Evelyn is enchanting in a white gown fit for the Chantry. The gown has long sleeves that dangle from her wrists, made of fine lace that clings to her skin until it pools out at the waist in a dazzling array of tulle. 

A single dainty emerald pendant lays just below her collarbone to match the ring Solas had given her. Her hair is twisted up into an elegant bun, with a few strategically placed strands framing her round face. Vivienne and Josephine are the ones to help prepare her, with the First Enchanter expertly applying rouge where she sees fit. Finally, she is tucked behind a lace veil to hide her from Solas until she meets him at the altar. 

The estate is eerily quiet when she is escorted to the edge of the courtyard, decorated far too elaborately for the occasion. She immediately spots Solas waiting beside Leliana under a trellis of crystal grace. They stand far too rigid for the pair to look even remotely comfortable with each other. And yet she can’t help but admire how poised the elf looks in his more Chantry-approved navy doublet with silver threading. A silver crown adorned with emerald jewels sits regally atop his head. His jawbone pendant is the only familiar thing about his garb.

The Solas that awaits her at the altar is not the same Solas she had once known during their time together in the Inquisition. No, this Solas makes no pretense of pretending he is anything but an immortal god, the Dread Wolf. 

Any chatter abruptly ceases when the wedding party sees her. Their small array of guests stand immediately when Cullen takes her hand. The former Commander leans down, whispering into her ear as they begin to approach the makeshift altar, “You can still walk away from this, Evelyn.” 

It is only then that she realizes she is shaking against him. Chancing a look amongst the crowd, she spots Dorian and Bull giving her somber smiles that she supposes ought to be encouraging. Sera still appears a bit put out by this entire ordeal, but Thom, proudly donning the colors of the Grey Wardens, is squeezing the rogue’s shoulder and giving a gentle smile to the Inquisitor as she passes. Cassandra appears to be silently crying beside Varric while the dwarf awkwardly tries to comfort the Seeker. Josephine is standing beside Vivienne and the both of them are giving her approving smiles. Solas’s own retinue of guests are stoically watching from the other side of the aisle. She recognizes no one but Abelas who acknowledges her with a stiff nod. 

Evelyn breathes out a sigh and whispers back to Cullen, “It’s probably a bit late for that.” 

Her friend merely squeezes her arm, both of them knowing that they did not really have much of a choice should they truly wish to prevent a war. She feels herself cling to him like a lifeline as they finish their approach. The panic rises in her throat and she feels like screaming. With one last pat on her arm, her hand is given to Solas and thus the ceremony begins in earnest. 

The crowd seems to wait with baited breath as Leliana expertly recites the Andrastian vows that she barely hears past the roaring pulse in her ears. She doesn’t dare to look at Solas. 

Solas speaks the words first, confidently, and Evelyn follows soon after. They promise to love each other, eternally, to not stray from one another. Evelyn can’t help but wonder if he even means those words. It is too soon after that Leliana declares them married under the Chantry, leaving Solas to gently turn her so she faces him fully. 

Almost reverently, the friend she had admired from afar and her most recent enemy lifts the veil obscuring her face. Her breath catches as he beams at her; his eyes crinkle in the corners the way they used to when she’d gently tease him in the rotunda about his tea-drinking habits. 

His hand lifts, brushing a strand of hair behind her small, rounded ear. He is far closer than he has ever been before. Closing her eyes in anticipation, she still feels the blood rush to her face as he places a soft kiss upon her lips. Her own hand that wears his ring falls to his chest, curling her fingers into the elegant fabric as she finds herself kissing him in return. 

The crowd cheers, finally, for the union is secured and there would be no more war. 

* * *

Evelyn and Solas are seated beside each other at the forefront of the reception. The overall atmosphere has relaxed considerably, with Solas’s people happily drinking alongside the former Inquisition members. Leliana sits to her right, looking amiable enough but not participating in the general merry atmosphere of the feast. Instead, she holds Evelyn’s hand underneath the table, a silent acknowledgment of just what she has sacrificed for this world. 

Solas and her have seldom opportunity to speak or even eat before they are whisked away to their shared chamber for the evening. She can barely even recall the events of the reception and it feels far too quick for them to finally be left alone. There is cheering and jeers from her friends outside, and she thinks she is truly doomed to an eternal blush at this rate. Not two months ago she had received his offer, and now she is standing quietly beside him as the Dread Wolf’s new wife. 

“May I?” He asks, tearing her from her reverie as he fingers the laces at her dress. Evelyn nods in acquiescence, turning her back to him as he begins unlacing her elaborate gown. She feels the dress begin to slip from her shoulders and mutters her thanks before she disappears behind the partition on the other side of the room. With a mere flick of her wrist, the candles in the chamber burst to life and illuminate their surroundings in a warm glow. 

A simple enough nightdress was left out for her, and Evelyn is quick to toss her gown over the screen. Once the nightdress falls securely and comfortably over her rather overheated body, she pokes her head around. They abruptly trade places as she crosses back over towards the bed and perches awkwardly on the edge. 

She knows very well what is expected. While she is no blushing virgin, the thought of doing _that_ with Solas is still quite a shock. For as long as she has known him, she couldn’t help but wonder what such an experience would be like with him. Long ago, she resigned herself to the fact that she would never find out. Solas had very clearly stated he was not interested in humans, after all. 

The man in question walks away from the privacy screen, quietly placing their wedding attire over a nearby chair before he approaches the bed. He watches her with a curious gleam in his grey eyes as he sits beside her. 

“Evelyn,” the elf begins. The sound of her name on his tongue should not affect her the way it does. “We do not have to do anything you are not comfortable with.” 

“Right,” is her automatic response, disbelieving. “You do realize there is probably an audience outside?” 

A bemused grin tugs at his lips as he shakes his head. “Ever the more reason to perhaps wait.” 

Although she understands his reasoning, she can’t help the insecurity that washes over her. He didn’t want to be with her in that way. Evelyn is more than aware of that fact, after years spent pining over a man who would never look at her the way she looked at him. This was a political alliance, nothing more. They would do what they had to, when they had to, but not necessarily because he would ever desire her. 

A rueful smile is her answer before she speaks, “Ah, yes. I don’t blame you for wanting to work up the nerve.” 

Confusion is etched into his features as she stands and pushes back the sheets. “I expect our guests will want us to stay put. If it’s not too repulsive to you, I do hope we can share the room just for the night.” 

As she throws the blankets over herself, cowering into the sheets, she feels him move from the bed. Holding her breath, she tries not to glare at the man as he quickly tugs the sheets away from her face. “Do not hide from me, Evelyn.” 

She can’t quite mask the grimace as he decides to climb in close beside her, throwing the blankets back over their forms. Before she can protest, Solas whispers a spell that unlocks her prosthetic arm. He places the finely crafted prosthesis on the end table beside them and turns on his side to gaze at her. 

“Do you believe me to be indifferent to you? Disgusted even?” Solas asks carefully. She knows they are married now, that her life would change irrevocably, but for whatever reason she had not expected the kind of intimacy that they currently share. He lays so close to her, she can feel his breath on her skin. 

Swallowing thickly, Evelyn turns her head toward the ceiling. “Are you not?” 

“ _No._ ” The word hangs heavily between them as his fingers wind their way over to her remaining palm. 

A tear escapes, leaving a trail down to the collar of her nightdress. His hand smoothes it away without a word. 

“Solas,” she pleads, but she doesn’t know what she’s asking for. 

The elf beside her sits up, hovering over her so she has no choice but to look at him. His nightclothes are reminiscent of the tunic he wore during his time with the Inquisition. She misses the jawbone pendant he wore not a few moments ago. 

“You had to know of my feelings,” Evelyn admits, defeated and terribly confused by this entire affair. Solas just nods.  
  
“Yes, I knew,” he agrees. The admission doesn’t really make her feel better. If anything, she feels even more humiliated. 

“Then… why?” 

His hand smoothes her hair back, his eyes never leaving her own. Why does he toy with her like this? 

“Because I could not let myself be distracted from my duty. No matter how much it pained me,” he speaks solemnly. The admission sends her reeling. 

“But you said -” 

“That you are not one of the People and that I could not be with you,” he finishes for her, regretfully. The reminder still stings all these years later. “It was a lie.”

A snort manages to escape her, despite his confession. “One of many, it seems.”

A self-deprecating grin is his answer before he leans in closer to her. She closes her eyes at the touch of his skin against hers. The feeling is… indescribable. It is something she has longed for, years in the making, and she can’t even truly believe this is happening.

“Let me assure you, _emma lath_ , my wife - that I am by no means disgusted by you,” Solas speaks into her hair, head bowed against her chest. It’s quite unfortunate that she still doesn’t have a good grasp of his language. She can’t help but wonder at the meaning of ‘ _emma lath_ ’. 

“You flatter me,” she mutters somewhat flatly and the sound of his brief chuckle significantly lightens the mood. Even if she knows he doesn’t really mean it. 

He places a lingering kiss upon her brow before he lays back at her side. A wave of his hand casts the room in darkness as the candles are abruptly snuffed out. 

“Rest, Evelyn, for tomorrow we shall be married in both the eyes of your Maker and my People,” he suggests, affectionately. His arm wraps around her body and she finds herself relaxing against him, despite their confessions still lingering in the air surrounding them. Sleep is difficult to come by. 

* * *

The next morning, she is woken up by one of Solas’s people, a former Dalish elf who introduces herself as Sylvia. Her eyes flicker over to where Solas had slept the night before and she finds no trace of him. 

“The Lord Fen’Harel is preparing for the ceremony with Abelas,” Sylvia tells her before she can think to ask. 

She is quickly ushered into a steaming bath, heady with the scent of rose petals. Vivienne, Josephine, and Leliana return after she finishes bathing to help dress her in a deep green gown so fine it made her dress from the ceremony the day before seem plain. They leave her feet bare in the traditional elven manner. Half of her hair is twisted into elaborate braids, leaving the rest to fall effortlessly down her back. The entire ensemble is finished with a crown of gilded prophet’s laurel placed atop her head. When she spots herself in the mirror, she’s taken aback by how positively regal she looks. 

Yet she does not look like herself. It doesn’t feel quite right that she wears the attire of an oppressed people that she does not share a heritage with. She is a human. Furthermore, she is a Circle mage at heart, despite the circumstances that brought her here today.

When she first met Solas, she saw in him a kindred spirit. She had assumed he was of a similar mind, longing for peace and life’s simple pleasures. She never felt the need to put on airs around him. His presence was a comfort amid the grand Game that she was often forced to play. Little did she know that Solas was likely the most powerful, noble person she had ever met. He had certainly played the part of the traveling apostate well enough. How can she wear these clothes and feel worthy of a god? 

Josephine can’t help but question if anything had occurred the night before, drawing her out of her reverie. Leliana listens raptly and even Vivienne doesn’t disguise her interest in gossiping. Evelyn perhaps takes too much delight in disappointing them as they begin their journey towards the altar. 

Today’s ceremony will take place deep in the woods, beneath the ruins of statues depicting the Dread Wolf in his ancient form. She can’t help but admire the irony of the situation. Just a couple of years ago, she had traipsed through these very woods alongside Solas, encountering artifacts and ruins that once belonged to _him_. Now she is to marry the very same elf. 

When they reach the ruins, her party moves to join the rest of the guests. The people of New Arlathan, which include several familiar faces once members of the Inquisition, far outnumber her own retinue. The guests sit against the soft earth, hidden underneath the thick canopy of trees surrounding them. 

Allegedly, according to her Elven advisors sent by Solas, she is not to be accompanied when she walks to her husband. She holds a bouquet of Crystal Grace tightly to her chest as she begins her march. 

Solas stands in all his splendor, barefoot and gleaming in his golden armor. He wears his pelt proudly against his chest, with a crown to match her own perched atop his head. As Evelyn approaches him she can’t help but wonder again how she ever bought his whole ‘humble apostate’ ensemble. An ancient god, _the Dread Wolf,_ is waiting for her. When she reaches him he does not hesitate to take her hand and the ceremony begins. 

Trying to ignore the gaze of Abelas presiding over their vows, she speaks the words drilled into her softly, “ _Lasan ara'sal, sule ha'lam'sal'shiral…_ ” 

Solas repeats the words she speaks, voice lilting and so very powerful. “ _Ara dir'vhen'an_ …” 

She clings to Solas’s hand, grounding herself to him as she tries desperately not to fumble these sacred words. By the way he squeezes back, assuringly, she knows she can’t have messed it up too bad. 

One of the books she’d been sent had explained the importance surrounding ancient Elven wedding practices. It emphasized the eternal and unbreakable bond between the immortal couples. A wedded couple would always be bonded to each other. According to the book, weddings between the ancient elves were few and far between for this very reason. Evelyn had, quite logically, assumed that her mortality and the political nature of their match would not hold the same significance. 

Yet, as she feels Solas’s intense gaze on her alongside the buzz of magic in the air, she can’t help but wonder if this was truly real. Their hands are bound together tightly in a deep red cloth, signifying their eternal bond. Abelas is chanting, a powerful spell forming on his lips as he hovers his palm over their clasped hands. A rush of white hot heat envelops their enclosed hands, making her flinch, until abruptly everything goes still. The feeling of powerful magic lingers in the air. 

They are soon announced as wed and the crowd erupts in cheers. Once again, Solas does not hesitate to lean down and place another chaste kiss upon her lips. Despite the crowd celebrating in the background, her world is enveloped entirely by Solas until he pulls away. 

According to her mentors, as soon as the vows are spoken the newlyweds are to steal away into the woods while the reception commences without them. Solas is quick to tug her into the trees before she can so much as give a wave of acknowledgment to her dear friends. 

He guides her confidently deeper into the lush forest. Her fingers remain interlaced with his own as he helps her to navigate overgrown roots and a wade through the river. They walk quietly, amid the sound of birdsong and the creaking of the wind between the trees. 

Eventually they come across a roaring waterfall beside a rocky cliff face. Solas raises his free hand, calling forth his ancient magic to momentarily still the waters overhead. As they part through the waterfall, only wet below the calves, they encounter a small cave alight with candles. 

The cave houses an array of soft pillows and blankets. Trays of fruits, cheeses, and bread alongside bottles of wine had been left to the side placed on a small table. A pink frilly cake Evelyn swears she recognizes from Val Royeaux sits in the middle. Solas’s magic feels tangible in their small shelter, keeping everything dry and comfortably warm. Obviously their evening had been well-planned. 

Evelyn lets go of the skirts hitched to her knees after their jaunt through the river and awkwardly smoothes herself out as Solas moves to adjust the pillows. He beckons her to sit beside him after he reclines against the wall of the cave. 

Hesitantly, she falls to her knees at his side, unsure of how close she should be. 

“I hope this is alright,” he murmurs. Surprisingly the sound of the waterfall is significantly muted, likely from a sound barrier he had cast before they entered. 

“It is wonderful,” she answers truthfully. A smile lights up his features as he reaches for a goblet. He pours her a cup of red wine and offers it to her wordlessly. 

With a quick _thanks_ she is gratefully sipping at the wine, hoping it helps to calm her somewhat frazzled nerves. 

“So does this mean we are now officially married?” Evelyn asks as he sips from his own goblet. He takes a moment to compose himself before nodding. 

“Indeed we are,” he assures her. A feeling of warmth spreads throughout her being at this acknowledgment. She doesn’t quite know what to say next and so instead she takes another sip of wine. It leaves a sweet aftertaste of summer berries lingering on her tongue. 

“What now?” She finds herself asking instead. 

“Tomorrow we’ll return to the estate to say our farewells. Then we travel back to New Arlathan where I shall help acquaint you with our new home. After another few months, I plan to step down as ruler of the Dales and then we are free to do whatever you may please,” he explains succinctly, before darting his eyes rather anxiously back to her. “As for right now, that is entirely up to you.” 

Evelyn coughs nervously into her elbow, trying to hide her ridiculous anxiety. And yet before this can continue, there is something she must know. 

“Solas… what happened in Halamshiral,” the words leave her with a sigh. Maker, that had not been a year ago. He had taken the anchor, her arm, had told her of his true identity. He had basically confessed to his role in Corypheus’s uprising. And finally he had stated his intention to tear down the veil and unleash the rest of the Elvhen pantheon upon the world. While she may believe his plans have been put on hold for the time being, still she frets. “What is this?”

The taste of wine is sour after she takes a nervous swig. Chancing a look over to the Dread Wolf, she notices his posture has relaxed and his head is bowed. 

“I confess, I do not understand your meaning.” 

“It’s just… am I even a person to you? Have you truly changed your mind?” The words leave her wretchedly, conveying the anguish she had been feeling for months and months. Her humanity had been pointed out time and again throughout her travels alongside Solas. It’s hard to believe that Solas would willingly marry her, even to prevent an Exalted March. “I do recall what you said at the lodge and I know you care for me as a friend, at the very least, but I... worry.” 

The feeling of his slender fingers on her shoulder, twining into her loose hair, leave her breathless as she resolutely stares ahead at the cave wall. “ _Vhenan._ ” 

She sucks in a gasp, for she actually _knows_ that word. The elves in the Circle had whispered it quietly amongst each other. It had been in her vows spoken just earlier that very day. Did she truly hear him correctly? 

Spinning around on her knees, she faces him frantically. “What are you trying to say, Solas?

Keenly remembering the last year, she winces thinking of when she confronted him outside of the Eluvian, fallen to her knees before him in agony. She had pleaded with him not to leave again, after all the time they had spent side by side, trying to right the wrongs of Corypheus. _There has to be another way._

“You have always been real to me, Evelyn, even if I was too blind to see it before. I… have cared for you for a very long time now,” he speaks gently, taking her hand that now bears his ring. 

“Really?” She asks in unabashed astonishment. Maker, she really thought she had married a monster. She had hoped against hope, after deliberately hiding that part of her confrontation from her friends, that Solas would change his mind. Even after his assurance when she had accepted his offer, it had seemed far too good to be real. And now, it seems, she might not have had to go to such lengths to convince him. 

“Truly,” Solas speaks quietly, raising his head to regard her. “You must understand that I woke to a world much changed. I did not know the consequence of my actions and I feared taking down the veil was the only option I had left. 

After my time with the Inquisition, with _you_ , my reserve began to falter. I did not want to be swayed from my course. I had to leave. Yet still you found me.

When I took the anchor from you after we last parted, it was as if I had left a piece of my soul with you. I couldn’t bear to think of a world without you in it, _ma vhenan_. My original plan would have certainly taken you from me. I had to help my People and I did. I shall continue to do so. But I am so tired of walking this path alone.” 

Solas leans forward, cupping her reddened cheek with his elegant hand. Unconsciously, Evelyn finds herself melting into his touch. “I have loved you all along, Evelyn. _Ir abelas_ that it has taken me so long to figure it out.” 

It is overwhelming, the shock and relief that floods her at such news. She supposes he did allude to them last night but she couldn’t truly fathom that he felt this way. All this time she had spent agonizing over her decision not to impart such a terrible knowledge with her friends. She thought she had doomed all of Thedas on a stupid whim that she knew Solas could not truly unleash such chaos. 

Her heart feels full to bursting as he confesses his true feelings for her. He had changed his mind, _for her_. Oh, he loves her. 

Worry creases his features and it is only then she realizes she is openly weeping. Uncaring at all anymore, she flings herself into his arms. She is crying and laughing and it is just _too much_. 

“You… you, oh _Maker_ ,” she can barely breathe as she mumbles into his rather uncomfortable armor. Tightly, he returns her embrace, lacing his fingers through her done-up hair. “Solas, I love you... so much.” 

He holds her until her tears finally cease and she is left feeling lighter and tired and rather hungry after days of being unable to stomach food. Leaning back, Evelyn sheepishly wipes at her tears and eyes the table of food nearby. 

Solas chuckles as he settles her back down more comfortably against the pillows. He begins piling a plate high with figs and berries, hard and soft cheeses, and a thick chunk of bread smeared in butter. They take turns picking from the plate, lounging idly back as they begin to really speak for the first time in ages. 

He asks about her life after the events of Halamshiral and she is honest with him. She tells him of her tireless research into the veil and differing theories on its magical properties in a vain hope to find a solution that would benefit both Solas and the modern world. He tells her of his own studies into the matter and they mutually agree to continue such inquiries after they travel back to New Arlathan. Somewhere along the way, Solas sheds his dazzling armor and crown, leaving him in a familiar beige tunic. She happily places her own crown beside his and brushes out her hair with her fingers as she listens to his musings. The sound of his voice calms her like no other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now onto the smut! Feel free to skip the next chapter if that’s not your jam. 
> 
> Thanks to Project Elvhen for the whole wedding vows thing!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll go hide in the corner now, thanks.

The light outside begins to dim when Solas once more breaches the topic of their new marriage. They’ve polished off a bottle of wine but the drink doesn’t leave her intoxicated. She had been so anxious that the alcohol only seemed to stem her nervousness.

“I wish for us to enter this union honestly, Evelyn,” Solas begins, unsure. “I do not expect our relationship to immediately be that of a physical nature, but I would like to know if that is your intention.” 

“That is quite an elaborate way of asking if we’re going to have sex,” Evelyn responds with a chuckle and perhaps the drink had loosened her tongue just a bit more than usual. 

He merely gives her an exasperated look but even she can tell he isn’t completely unaffected. He is flushed red from the tips of his ears down into his tunic. The sight is entirely too endearing. 

Feeling emboldened by the turn their conversation has taken, Evelyn hitches up her skirts and climbs into the elf’s lap. Biting her lip to control the jumble of words that threaten to spill over, she gives him a look of undeniable _want_. Ever since she had laid eyes on him beneath the rift, frantically making a beeline for her before he held her hand up towards the sky, Evelyn had been entranced. He meant everything to her. And she knows that it was not until she had him cornered between the Eluvians years later that she was even considered to be real to him. 

Before anything else, Evelyn unlocks her ironbark arm and places it somewhere in the near vicinity. She wraps her good arm around his broad shoulder, marveling at the novelty of finally being able to touch him. All the while he watches her with great interest, quirking his lips into a smirk as she settles herself more firmly upon his lap, her knees straddling the sides of his hips. 

A million thoughts race through her head all at once. 

_You’re straddling the Dread Wolf!_

_You only just cleared things up, slow down!_

Shoving aside such thoughts, she throws caution to the wind. Her lips fall upon his, desperately hungry, tongue slipping between his teeth to tangle with his own. He tastes of the wine and fruit they shared and nothing in the world is more intoxicating than the slide of his tongue against hers. 

Her fingers trace the shell of his ear, remembering a trick she had learned in another lifetime back during her awkward fumbling in the Circle. His answering groan in response to her explorations sends a jolt of fire straight throughout her being. _Maker_ , she wants to drown in him. 

A needy whine escapes her throat as she bucks against him, grinding shamelessly into his lap as he pushes her back and laves his tongue into her neck. Her pulse jumps in anticipation as his teeth tug at the skin of her neck, eager to be marked as his, _finally_. 

Eventually she winds up sprawled back against the pillows with Solas on top of her. He pushes her gown up higher and higher, skimming his fingers along the newly exposed skin of her legs. Her body shivers as he leans back and promptly sheds his tunic. He doesn’t let her admire his lithe form for long until he is back on top of her, urging her to lie back down. 

The sound of her rough breathing fills the cave as he toys with the laces of her small clothes. Never in her wildest dreams would she have imagined herself to be here, pliant and needy as Solas tears the smalls from her body.

She supposes she should feel somewhat embarrassed at how bare she is, with her skirts bunched up at the waist and with Solas spreading her thighs further apart. Sucking in a shaky breath, she can only watch, perched on an elbow as Solas swipes his thumb over her center. The sound that falls from her lips echoes in their surroundings, all desperation and unabashed desire. 

Taking encouragement from such a touch, Evelyn’s head collapses against a pillow as he begins to toy with her. His thumb continues it’s ministrations before she feels a slender finger hook inside of her. She bucks unconsciously against his hand, clenching her own into the blankets beneath them as he explores her body. His fingers work in earnest as Solas listens keenly to what she likes and doesn’t like. He follows her movement so expertly, using his free hand to keep her firmly locked to the ground as his fingers pump in and out of her. All the while his thumb continues to swipe at her center until she shatters with a hoarse cry. 

She opens her eyes, still reeling from her sudden orgasm to find Solas pulling his fingers out of her. Before she can say anything, words fail her as she watches the elf reverently begin to suck at his own fingers coated in her juices. 

“Just as I suspected, _Vhenan_ ,” he speaks with amusement thick in his tone. His eyes darken at her look of astonishment. He likes the attention. “ _Delicious_.” 

He then further spreads her legs until she is spread impossibly wide for him. He dips his head and begins to lap idly at her glistening folds. 

“Ah!” Evelyn whines, scrabbling for purchase as her fingers dig into his shoulder. 

He buries his face between her legs, using his arms to keep her legs apart for him. The sound of her needy moans fill the cave alongside the heady sound of Solas’s tongue continuously sliding against her center. She doesn’t think she can possibly be any more turned on until a finger is once again slipped inside her. 

Once more, Evelyn cries out her orgasm as her thighs tremble around his head. But Solas doesn’t give up his explorations. Whimpering, she scrambles to control her breathing as Solas’s tongue continues to circle around her nub, occasionally dipping closer to where his fingers continue to pump in and out of her. Not a minute later she is falling apart and keening. 

Again and again, Solas refuses to give up his relentless efforts against her swollen center. She loses track of how many times she comes rocking against his mouth before finally he sits back, exposing his dilated eyes and damp chin. 

He looks at her trembling beneath him smugly, and yet there is an undercurrent of desperation in his eyes. Fighting the bone-deep exhaustion she can’t help but feel, Evelyn sits up and shakily begins trying to reach for the laces on her back. Solas is there behind her not a moment later, brushing her hair aside before he makes quick work of unlacing her dress. When the silky fabric begins to slip from her shoulders, she gasps at the feeling of his lips trailing over the back of her neck and across her newly exposed skin. Gooseflesh pebbles along her skin as the dress is abruptly tossed over her head, leaving her completely bare before the Dread Wolf. 

Before her self-consciousness can get the better of her, she turns and watches his reaction. She finds his eyes wide, tracing over her form, and finds he is far too overdressed for the occasion. 

Somewhat impatiently, Evelyn tugs at the hem of his tunic until Solas chuckles and raises his arms for her. She stumbles into his arms, her hand quick to roam over the warm, freckled skin on his chest and arms. Her lips fall over his sternum, leaving a path of gentle kisses wherever she can. She pauses over his heart, marveling at how it continues to beat thousands and thousands of years longer than she can even fathom. 

His fingers clench into the hair on the back of her head, eagerly tugging her mouth back over his. Only too happy to oblige, she nips at his full lips, reveling in the taste of herself on his skin. All the while, Evelyn unlaces his soft trousers with a surprising deftness considering her abject excitement. 

With an unceremonious tug down on his trousers, she pulls back to watch his leaking, _beautiful_ , pink cock spring forward. Thick and swelling, her heart skips a beat as she tries to imagine the taste of him. With a boldness that shocks even herself, Evelyn leans down and laps at the single drop of pre-cum that slides down his cock. 

A rough inhale follows her ministrations as she takes him into her mouth. Evelyn had never been particularly fond of this act, but with Solas she finds herself salivating at the taste of him as she sucks and twirls her tongue over his tip. Admittedly, Evelyn had spent countless lonely evenings imagining herself in this very position with Solas, long resigned over the fact that she would never have the opportunity to taste him. 

The Dread Wolf is desperately clinging to her hair, barely restraining himself from thrusting deeper into her throat. 

“ _Evelyn_ ,” he pleads helplessly as she surges deeper forward and swirls her tongue _just so_. A shocked groan escapes deep from within his chest before he pulls her head back, hair clenched into his fist, forcing her eyes back up to him. 

Her aching center throbs in anticipation despite the attention she has already received from Solas. Never, ever before has she ever been so completely starved for someone. She would do anything, anything at all, just to feel him inside her and damn him, he knows it. 

“ _Vhenan_ , it has been a very, very long time,” he explains, voice uncharacteristically ragged. The sound of it sends a thrill down her spine, in awe that somehow she had finally managed to make the elf lose his composure.

Still, he keeps his hold on her head before he gently nudges her back against the pillows. A rush of air escapes her chest as he presses firmly against her, fingers tightening their hold. His smouldering eyes focus intently on her features, her heaving chest, deeply flushed skin, and the desperate lust that floods her eyes. 

His cock is pressed insistently against her slick center and she whimpers, wrapping her legs around his muscled hips. “Tell me to stop and I shall.” 

“ _Don’t you dare_ ,” she tries to demand but it comes out more like a plea. Solas releases the hair on the back of her head, letting her head fall back against the pillows as he pushes her thigh further up against his hip. “Please, Solas, I’ve waited _forever_ , I need you. _I need you_.” 

“ _Ma nuvenin._ ” 

All at once she is fuller than she thinks she has ever been. There is a sharp tightness that unpleasantly distracts her from the glorious feeling of Solas finally being inside of her. Her sharp inhale makes the elf still, his free hand moving to cup her cheek once more as his eyes roam over her face. 

“ _Ir abelas, vhenan_ ,” he soothes, placing feather-light kisses over her brow and eyelids until her body relaxes, becoming more accustomed to the foreign feeling of him deep within her. 

“I’m fine, Solas, please,” Evelyn assures him in a rush, shifting beneath him in a feeble attempt to get him to move. He chuckles at her eagerness and slowly pulls back. 

On his next gentle thrust, she digs her remaining fingers into his shoulder. Her mouth falls open with a gasp as he begins to thrust into her in earnest. 

The feeling is indescribable. It has been many years since she has last taken a lover. Yet it had never been like this before. Her experience in the Circle has significantly put quite a damper on her sexuality for fear of being caught by the Templars. After escaping and finding Solas, more often than not her mind would conjure fantasies of what such an act would be like. Nothing can possibly compare. 

As her husband - she remembers, for that is what he is to her now - plunges deeper into her dripping center, she clings to him. A surge of joy and unabashed desire overwhelm her as she lifts her hips in a desperate attempt to get him deeper within her. She can’t possibly get enough of him. 

“Solas,” she cries as his hand slips between them, thumb pressing against her once more. The air tingles with unrestrained electricity and she knows it comes from her.

“Evelyn, _vhenanera_ , come for me,” Solas pleads and she can’t help but oblige. 

Evelyn gasps as her orgasm comes crashing down over her, making her clench tightly against Solas. Her body twitches and legs shake violently as she draws him into his own end.

His pace stutters as he moans, " _Mine_ " louder than she has ever heard him, head thrown back in ecstasy as his orgasm takes over him. She marvels in the feeling of him coming deep within her as his cock continues to twitch inside her. 

He leans his forehead against her shoulder, their skin glistening with sweat as they fight to catch their breath. 

“Solas,” Evelyn whispers, exhausted and so very happy. The elf looks back up, his grey eyes heavy with affection in the dying candlelight. 

A brand new surge of energy overtakes her as she flips them. Momentarily she slips off his cock, gasping as his cum begins to drip between her thighs. Solas falls back in a heap against the pillows before she seats herself back over him, sinking back onto his still-hard cock. 

A harsh groan fills the cave as she begins to bounce up and down. She guides his hands over her body, over her breasts, fingers digging into her hips as she sets a particularly desperate pace. 

Never does she want this to end. 

* * *

It is not until the blue light of dawn filters through the waterfall that they finally stop to rest. He has had her every way she could possibly conceive of at the top of her head. Her riding achingly slow atop his hips, below him with her ass high in the air as he brutally sets a rough pace, against the wall of a cave as he holds her up under her thighs. Once, they had ventured outside underneath the light of the twin moons to try and bathe under the waterfall until Solas had swept her into his arms and abruptly sheathed himself within her. When they found themselves back within their little cave, Evelyn had climbed atop him, hovering her dripping folds above his mouth as she worked to finally taste his cum on her tongue. He had been all too eager to pull her flush against his face as they each found their release. 

When morning breaks, they lay sprawled against each other, hot and exhausted from hours and hours of lovemaking. Solas decided to grab a fork and the fancy little cake she just knows is from Val Royeaux as they feed each other bites of wedding cake for breakfast. A bit of frosting manages to find its way onto her taut nipple and of course Solas is there quickly to clean the mess with his tongue. The cake is left abandoned as Solas buries his face into her breasts, licking and nipping as his fingers meanwhile find their way back to her truly raw center. 

And of course, Evelyn being the polite person that she is, is keen to return the favor as her hand works at his cock, eager to discover the ways in which her new husband likes to be touched. 

They finally stop when the sun is high in the sky, after one more round of gentle lovemaking as they stared into each other’s eyes, whispering promises and declarations of love. 

They fall asleep, legs entwined, with her head pillowed on his chest and his arms securely wrapped around her. The last thing she hears before she slips into the Fade is ' _Ar lath ma.'_

She has a better idea about what that means now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyway I hope anyone reading this enjoyed it. I may pick up this AU one day if people are interested!


End file.
